


SERVICEABLE

by Sanguied



Category: Oz (TV)
Genre: Adult Content, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Unethical Experimentation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-10
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2017-12-28 23:37:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/998270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanguied/pseuds/Sanguied
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Em city Beecher thought he was happy being left alone, serving his time, alone. He wasn't looking for anything more until it came looking for him.<br/>...“I can take care of myself.”<br/>“O’Reily if that were true you wouldn’t be here.”<br/>It's starts with his new 'job' and ends with everything.<br/>Serving life isn't that bad if your life is with you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Prologue

“Fucking Christ,” Beecher hissed with a scowl. He’d just gone to the fucking bathroom; they couldn’t have gotten that far. They’d only been back in Em city for 2 damn days, how much trouble could they be looking for all ready? Frustrated and slightly annoyed, he stopped by the table Rebadow was playing solitaire at, still looking around even as he asked, “Have you seen,”

The man didn’t even let him finish, “Behind the stairs.”

Beecher mumbled his thanks as he moved casually towards the stairs. If they were up to something he didn’t want to draw attention to it. He glanced around; making sure no one was paying him any attention, before he ducked behind the stairs.

He paused at the scene, unable to do anything else as he took in what he was seeing. He shook his head, it was practically a reproduction of a scene from Upton 3 months ago, his life was on repeat.

Keller held the guy by the neck while saying, “If you as much as look at either one of them, I will snap your neck. If you so much as think about looking his way,” unknown man being threatened was turned to look at him, “I will fuck you bloody with my fist while I break your neck.”

Beecher rolled his eyes. Keller was lucky Beecher loved him, normally psychotic episodes were a turn off but Keller did them so well. This was probably his fault really, he had asked Keller to help him watch after the two chuckleheads, who thought Keller’s very real threats in their defense were amusing.

He glanced over the two, who seemed unharmed. He moved over to join them, “What happened?”

As the story came out, it wasn’t anything Beecher hadn’t expected in an environment with so many new people. The way O’Reily and Alvarez had looked before was temptation, now it was a little too much not to expect trouble, “and then what?”

“Then nothing, he smacked Ryan’s ass and Keller hauled him back here.”

Ryan rested his chin on Miguel’s shoulder. “It was nothing, he barely touched me.”

“Close enough for me.” Alvarez reached up and patted the head on his shoulder.

The unnamed man made a choking sound and Alvarez glanced over. “He does realize if the guy had really pissed us off we’d kill him ourselves. It’d save O’Reily from boredom.”

“I think he’s trying to impress me,” Beecher replied, as he glanced over his shoulder, “that’s enough lover. I think he’s got it.”

O’Reily tilted his head, “Impress you, he’s got you. No more courting rituals for you two, the body count get’s too high.”

Beecher snorted, “Whereas you two send flowers”, he tossed a smile towards Keller with a shrug; “maybe he’s just jealous I’ve already picked up a life sentence for the two of you and wants to add to his. There’s really no telling.” He was kidding but knew it was too soon by the way Alvarez and O’Reily became serious and shifted closer to each other.

“Beech,” Alvarez stepped closer, brushing his hand over Beecher’s arm, “you saved our lives, if weren’t for you and Torquemada, we’d be worse than dead. We won’t forget that shit man.”

“Ever.” O’Reily added.  

“And they have about that long to make it up to you,” Keller announced with cheer as he threw an arm around Beecher, who moved into him and rolled his eyes.


	2. Part 1- A Year before the Prologue

“Fucking Christ,” Beecher hissed with a scowl as he glanced over to make sure the 5th fight of the week, and it was only Tuesday, stayed on the other half of the overcrowded gym. Two months of this and Beecher was tempted to get himself thrown into their version of the hole for a break. It had a bench and a toilet, hell they even let you keep your clothes, which sounded pretty good right now. Through the hole was probably full and he’d have to wait for a space.

Beecher glanced over his book; he had a pretty good view from his top bunk of the hacks breaking up the fight. He shook his head and looked back down. Upton prison had been overcrowded before they’d taken on some of Oz’s inmates, now it bordered on ridiculous. Supposedly Upton’s other gym was just as crowded as this one, not to mention their regular cells, two men cells holding 3, and 6 men cells holding 8 or 9. It was like that all over the state and he’d heard they’d shipped some of Oz’s inmates out of state even, until Oz was repaired.

He hadn’t seen too many people form Em city, though he’d heard about a few. Pancamo was supposedly holding court in the other gym. O’Reily and his father were also there he’d heard. Torquemada (and his destiny) had landed nicely on his feet. Beecher heard Torquemada was running the drug trade and had the warden’s ear. He was sitting pretty, probably an ideal place for a man who wore flowers in prison.

His own reputation had him pretty much left alone. Men gave him a wary eye and kept their dicks to themselves, which was about all he could ask for.

Thankfully the fight didn’t stop them from being taken out to the yard. 

“Hey Beecher?”

He turned with a raised eyebrow, “Masters.” He’d seen ‘her’ out here before with his group even through Masters resided somewhere else. That alone gave credence to the rumors of how well Torquemada was doing here, able to get his sellers out on the lawn to do business with other areas of the prison. “I’m not interested in anything.” He didn’t want to pick up a habit he’d have to try and pay for in here.

Masters waved him off through, “no, I know, I wasn’t even going to ask about that. I was however wondering how you found living in gym B?”

“It sucks.” Beecher glanced around the yard.

“How would you like a change?” Masters smiled.

He tilted his head but didn’t look Masters’ way nor showed any interest, all he did say was, “I’m listening.” And he did listen as Masters explained the situation and had to admit he was interested. He let Masters run himself dry before he summed it up, “Basically Torquemada needs someone to watch after his pet. Remind him to eat and take a shower, because Torquemada’s to busy running an empire to keep up with him and the Latin kitten doesn’t like any of you.”

Masters shrugged. “He doesn’t mind us, but he’s wary and well he still has some issues being seen with just us. Torquemada thinks he’ll respond better to someone more normal and he knows you.”

Beecher laughed, chosen for his normality. “And I’d get.”

“Out of the gym for one, being able to go outside more, eat in the cafeteria instead of those bagged lunches every day, a TV, space of your own. And the honor of doing a good deed, I think he needs more normal interaction.”

Beecher imagined so. He didn’t have to think about it long, though he made Masters wait. “I’ll give it a try.”

Masters grinned, and patted his arm, Beecher looked down at the hand and Masters quickly removed it, but didn’t stop smiling. “Good. You made the right choice Beecher you’ll see.”

The hacks nabbed him as he came in and told him to grab his stuff. Not nearly enough time for Masters to pass along his agreement, Torquemada was cocky. Beecher went along with it, easy going, until things didn’t go his way. It was worth it to be led into a cell, a 6 man cell with only 6 beds and a TV in the corner. There were also shelves and a table with chairs, all standard issue but this had to be the only cell not converted into holding 9 guys. It was luxurious in comparison. The cell was empty, the other occupants out for their turn in the yard. The guard pointed him to the bunks across from the door; the bottom had a shirt on it, while the top was unmade. The hack left him to get moved in.

It took him a total of 5 minutes to get packed away, he spent the rest of the time watching TV, damn thing had cable.

“And our new roomie has arrived.”

Beecher looked away from the tide commercial and towards the simpering Torquemada before he jumped from his bunk. Alvarez didn’t even seem to notice him, just curled up on the bottom bunk towards the right from the door. He stared towards the TV while Beecher stared at him and took in the dark circles under his eyes, the weight loss, and his absent despondent nature. “What the fuck have you done to him?” This was a far cry from the Alvarez he knew.

Torquemada scowled, “I don’t know,” he waved a frustrated hand towards the wretched form, “he’s just gets more blank every day. I give him anything and everything he could want.”

“Too much D?” Beecher bit out, but Torquemada quickly shook his head.

“Baby barely gets any.” He crossed his chest.

“Is he getting his psychiatric medication?” He remembered Alvarez being on a shitload of narcotics and anti-depressants.

“They won’t give him anything until his medical chart comes in. The files weren’t centralized and so, until some gets into the OZ infirmary and actually sends them out, they won’t do anything for him. He’s in line to be seen as soon as they arrive.”

Beecher walked over to the bunk and sat next to Alvarez, Torquemada scowled, “no touching, I don’t like others touching him.”

Beecher shook his head, “well that’s part of the problem right there. He’s tactile, touchy, always has been. He and O’Reilly are about the most tactile people I know.”

Alvarez glanced at him, but didn’t give him any response. Torquemada sighed dramatically, “I see, well that does cause a hardship. I had thought to get him a playmate, now I’ll just have to speed up the process.”

“A playmate?” Beecher was losing the plot here. He’d thought Torquemada and Alvarez were fucking around, but if he was getting him a playmate or at least what Beecher thought of as a playmate, yeah he was confused.

Torquemada must have seen it on his face because he laughed with a gesture of a fawning hand. “Oh allow me to enlighten you. I have a fetish in the truest sense of the word. I cannot achieve sexual satisfaction through any other means but my fetish. I am a voyeur Mr. Beecher. I can only achieve sexual satisfaction by watching others and Miguel is the most perfect subject I have ever found. I have never found any joy in a hand upon my own body, but by watching him, by becoming him, I find _everything_ I need. The only thing that would make it more perfect is getting his playmate.”

Beecher raised his hands as he left the bunk and stepped back, “Wait, I’m not,”

Torquemada laughed, “Oh no, not you, you are not my ideal. You’re not,” he tilted his head, “to my taste,” he licked his lips. “You are just as Masters asked of you, a friend for Miguel, someone to watch over him. I’ll just have to hurry my negotiations for his playmate, in fact if things work to plan I already have him.”

Beecher didn’t inquire. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

Torquemada had added several gym bunnies to his ‘crew’ a smart move, they were intimidating. Two of them were his new cellmates, along with Torquemada and Alvarez, but that meant, “Are you telling me there’s an empty bunk in here?” He eyed the bunk above Alvarez’s, which had a blanket on it, but there was only one trunk underneath Alvarez’s bottom bunk.

“Only since this morning,” Torquemada offered, “Michael got his walking papers. I was going to move Masters in, but I’ll move Tommy-boy instead, he’s another short-timer.” He ran a hand over the bunk, “That way this bunk will be all ready waiting for its owner.” He winked.

“All ready huh,” Alvarez’s playmate, Beecher figured. Shit, if Torquemada had grabbed up some asshole to hurt Miguel, fuck, Beecher didn’t think he could hang with that. He couldn’t watch someone being pragged. Didn’t Torquemada know his rep? He looked to Alvarez, who was watching TV with a blank look, how old was Alvarez anyway? Fuck it, he was just a kid. Beecher weighed the options and goddamn-it he was too cocksucking moral. “I can’t be involved in this. Pragging,”

Torquemada waved his hand trying to stop his words while shaking his head. “Oh no Beecher,” he smirked as he tisked, “prag, no. I would never make my beautiful Miguel do anything and I would never allow him to be harmed. I am not talking about anything as vulgar as pragging, such a nasty institution. They won’t do anything they aren’t willing to do for me and no ass fucking will be necessary, unless of course they ask to try it. I swear”, he raised his hand in a mock salute, “besides you’ll be here to make sure of it, won’t you?”  

Beecher figured he’d better be. “Yeah, when’s lunch?”

Torquemada laughed and so began Beecher’s introduction. He soon learned Torquemada wasn’t as dumb as he’d thought. Of course he couldn’t have been too stupid to begin with he did own several successful businesses no matter how stupid he’d been to throw acid in an ex.’s face. The rumors were wrong (he didn’t have the ear of the warden) what he did have though was the ear of her assistant, who really ran their day to day existence.

Torquemada was full of surprises, most (but certainly not all) the fawning fag was an act, a performance, which kept people from looking too deep. Fags were underestimated in prison and Torquemada used his mannerisms to keep people from looking too closely. Under his flowers and silk shirts he had rock hard muscles, which Beecher had seen him use with surprising proficiency. Once someone had tried to start something in the gym, Torquemada had the man on the ground before either of his guards could react.

He also had himself quite the operation and, as far as Beecher could see, it was pretty solid. No one else had access to Destiny and the drug was very popular and becoming more so. No one taking the stuff wanted anything to happen to its supply, which made all the users very protective of its source. Right now next to Torquemada was a good place to be and Beecher wanted to be in good place while it was still good for once.       

T.B.C


	3. "Your offer still good?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “O’Reily, you like Alvarez.”  
> “Not enough to be his fucking girlfriend.”

I want to thank everyone for reading. I would love some feedback, thank you. :) 

It was easy to fall into Alvarez’s routine, TV whenever he wasn’t eating his 3 squares, exercising, or outside. 

It didn’t take long for Beecher to understand just how depressed and ill Alvarez was. He was often despondent to the point of ignoring them and sometimes spoke to shadows. He was sleepy and uncaring, he was a little more talkative when on D, but it didn’t last. Beecher got him to interact but more often than not it wasn’t worth the effort as Alvarez didn’t really care.

The only thing that bothered Beecher about the whole arrangement was the little shows Torquemada got Alvarez to put on. The shows themselves weren’t a problem. They weren’t more than masturbation really. Alvarez was beautiful and didn’t seem to mind. Well Beecher told himself that Alvarez didn’t mind, but there was really no telling and Beecher didn’t ask. It just felt odd, yanking himself with 4 other guys while watching a 5th guy with no touching at all. The problem was the whole thing made him miss Keller more, who may have been a bastard and as bad for him as cancer but at least they fucked.

            99

O’Reily played solitaire at the end of table though he usually he stayed inside during yard time and went to the library. What the hell was he going to do out here?  It was cold, fucking winter. Couldn’t sling tits anymore, not only was this prison already established but his supplier wasn’t making it through. D was on top right now anyway. He scratched the back of his head. It was probably for the best his supplier couldn’t get through; he’d probably just snort his trade. Shit he missed Cyril. All he did was miss Cyril when he was sober, which was why he avoided being sober.

He glanced towards the other end of the table where his dad sat with some other wastes of space. They spoke together and snuck drinks when the hacks weren’t looking. That’s why he was out here, dear ol’ dad had bitched until he agreed to come. Though Ryan didn’t know why, all the old man had done since they’d come here was ignore him. Pretty standard for his dad ignore him or yell at him with no in between. Dad’s change of heart had only lasted as long as his stitches and dry spell. All it had taken was one good drunk to be the pop Ryan knew and hated.   

            99

Beecher wasn’t sure why they were out in the yard with gym A, Torquemada sent guys to every yard time but they (he, Alvarez and Torquemada) usually stuck to their own time later in the day. However, over the last month, he’d gotten pretty good at going with the flow. “Okay so what are we doing out here?” but not without question.

Torquemada winked at him but turned to Alvarez, “Miguel, my sweet, isn’t that your friend O’Reily over there?”

Beecher tried not to fall off his bench as Alvarez actually looked around, took interest and wandered off. He looked to Torquemada, then back to see Alvarez approach where O’Reily sat.

“What are you up to?” Beecher asked, though he couldn’t quite look away from Alvarez, it was just that rare for him to take any interest in anything.

Torquemada tilted his head with a sweet smirk, before sliding the bottle of black nail polish across the table, “get my left hand would you?”

            99

Alvarez studied O’Reily before he slid onto the bench across from him. “Yo man, you look like shit.”

O’Reily glanced up and snorted, “And you look worse. What are you doing out here?”

Alvarez shrugged, “Don’t know, Torquemada’s got some business out here.”

Time was O’Reily would’ve known but now he couldn’t work up the want to care. He wasn’t even sure why he was out here. “Cards?”

“Sure man, no wages though.”

Ryan shook his head, like he had anything to wage with, “all right, king’s corner?” Mentioning the game Miguel had taught him years back.

 Miguel couldn’t believe Ryan remembered and quickly agreed.

            99

Torquemada studied his nails and sighed as he tried to fix where Beecher had gone wrong.

Beecher didn’t care he was too busy watching Alvarez. He’d mothered the guy for a month and O’Reily got further in one conversation than he had all fucking month. He didn’t know what to think, but one thing was clear. “How did you know he’d react?”

Torquemada scoffed. “I know my Miguel, his thoughts, his motives. I have studied him, learned him.”

Beecher rolled his eyes, the creepy stalker shit used to freak him out but he’d grown immune. He did know he wasn’t going to receive an answer.

As time drew to an end, Torquemada looked to him, “go grab him, he wouldn’t appreciate me interrupting.”

Beecher sighed but stood, he was Alvarez’s babysitter after-all.

99

A week later their short-timer was gone and the bunk above Alvarez was empty again. Beecher wasn’t sure what Torquemada meant to do with the space now.

“Hey!”

Beecher glanced away from his book and automatically checked on Alvarez, who was watching TV, before he looked to the door. As soon as he saw the old man he knew.

“You’re late.” Torquemada stood from where he’d been studying Alvarez from over his magazine. Nitchel, one of the gym bunnies, also stood.

The old man scowled around the room and cursed at the space, the comfortable chairs, the TV.

Even from his bunk, Beecher could smell the sweet rot of jailhouse wine on Seamus O’Reily.

“Yeah, well, I’ve been cut off, can’t get anymore booze. Can’t pay and if I don’t pay what I owe they’re gonna cut me.” He grouched out, snarling their way. He singled out Torquemada with blurry-eyed hate, “Your offer still good?”

Torquemada nodded, “I am a man of my word.”

Seamus snorted, “A man, ha.”

Beecher set his book aside, Alvarez sat up on in his bunk, and they both watched as Torquemada and Seamus stared each other down for several minutes.

It was Seamus who finally looked away, “Okay then, you pay and keep me in drink and he’s all yours.” Seamus turned and went out into the hall, further than Beecher could see, he returned moment’s letter pulling someone behind him. “Here.”

Beecher felt his stomach drop as he recognized Ryan. The man was trading his fucking son for booze. He glanced to O’Reily, who looked so out of it he probably had no idea what was going on. He eyes were glazed as he tried to maintain standing.

Torquemada studied the swaying lanky figure, “what’s he on?”

Seamus shrugged, “fuck if I know, he took some pills. He’s always taking goddamn pills, good fucking luck keeping him high.”

Torquemada moved closer and titled his head as he studied something. Whatever it was he didn’t like it, his body language changed becoming angry and tense, and the whole mood of the room followed. Jacob, the other muscle, stood and moved closer, while his counterpart moved to block the door.

“What?” Seamus barked and O’Reily flinched.

Beecher blinked; he’d never known anything to make O’Reily flinch.

Seamus looked over his shoulder to see the door blocked and Beecher watched the panic come over him as Seamus realized he was blocked in and not visible to the hacks. “What! I said you can have him, he’s yours, do whatever the fuck you want with him.” Panic made his voice louder and meaner with false bravo, his arm swung out and his son moved away with a fearful sound that Beecher found himself hating.

Turned out Torquemada didn’t find it amusing either. He stalked closer and gripped O’Reily’s chin, for his part O’Reily slowly blinked but didn’t pull away. Torquemada raised his chin and studied the marks he found.  He was tall enough to peak down the front of O’Reily’s shirt. He leaned back with a frown. “Either you’ve been hitting him Mr. O’Reily or you’ve allowed someone else to touch him, which would be against our agreement.”

Seamus wiped his mouth and rubbed his face. “Well I may have been a little angry earlier and when he’s in his right mind he pisses me off. So I might have hit him once or twice, he can take it. But I swear, you can ask anyone, nobodies been pragging him. Some motherfucker tried but Ryan cut him good before the cocksucker got anywhere. I fucking guarantee the boys a virgin with men.” Seamus swallowed thickly but didn’t even glance Ryan’s way.

Torquemada released O’Reily and he stumbled, Torquemada easily balanced him and turned him towards Alvarez’s bunk. Alvarez helped, pulling him closer and further onto the bunk. O’Reily started to fight and Beecher readied to jump down and Torquemada looked ready to act, but Alvarez held up a hand, “it’s me O’Reily, Alvarez, calm the hell down and pass the fuck out.”

“Alvarez?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” O’Reily sighed and for all appearances passed out.

Torquemada smiled as he turned to Seamus, “I believe our business is concluded. Please tell your supplier to see me and get the fuck out.” He waved towards the door, Seamus didn’t waste any time. Torquemada sent Nitchel after him to fetch O’Reily’s things, before the ol’man got a chance to go through them.

It pissed Beecher off to no end that the man didn’t even spare a glance to the son he’d just knowingly sold. God for all Seamus knew they were going to prag Ryan out he was certainly cute enough for them to pull in some serious money. He cursed venomously as he jumped from his bunk.

Torquemada immediately leaned over Alvarez’s bunk and brushed his hand over O’Reily’s head. “I like his hair without that stuff he was using to brush it back, it looks better now, though it needs a trim.” He looked towards Alvarez, who was staring at O’Reily.

Alvarez looked back. “You _are not_ going to prag O’Reily or let anyone else.”

Beecher had to admit he didn’t think Alvarez had that much fire in him, though instead of appearing upset Torquemada looked thrilled, “No, of course not, unless you don’t want him as your playmate.”

Alvarez blinked, he’d heard all the talk about a playmate, he’d just ignored it. But here he was and he knew Torquemada had brought this but if he didn’t take him. Shit, O’Reily would have to do something to earn his dad’s booze and life. And it was O’Reily, unlike most these motherfuckers, he actually _liked_ O’Reily. He’d rather have O’Reily if he had to have anyone at all. Fuck, there was no getting out of this, “Mine.”

Torquemada grinned, “Yes, of course Miguelito.” He studied the picture they made together and shivered. They would be perfect. He turned towards Jacob, “that fucker hit my Ryan, break his hand.”

Beecher coughed for attention and once Torquemada raised an eyebrow his way, he added, “We should kill the fucker because he _sold_ his son to you.”

Torquemada smirked. “We could and, once he outlives his usefulness someone may; however, for right now while Ryan is getting used to us, we’d better limit Mr. O’Reily’s pain to his hand.

Beecher rolled his eyes. The man was practically glowing with happiness. It was amazing what the idea of complete sexual satisfaction could do for a guy. Torquemada was going to be impossible now. He was tempted to kill Seamus himself, the idea of a parent doing something so ugly to their own child was abhorrent to him. Though then Torquemada would have to find something else to hold over the younger O’Reily, drugs would only go so far. Perhaps this was the best way to go for right now, certainly would save them some aggravation.

999

Ryan awoke to semi-darkness and the flash of a TV. It took a moment for the confusion to overtake him. Where was he? What happened? The last he remembered was his dad _reminding_ him that Cyril was his fault. Brain damage-jail-death, all on him. He remembered taking the pills he’d lifted from the infirmary and that was it. He knew he shouldn’t have taken them all but damn he just wanted to get away from his dad’s mouth and fists, just for a while.

So where was he now? It was then he realized someone was in the bunk with him, next to him, curled against him but not on him. He tensed, had he finally gotten so stupid that one of those motherfuckers had gotten him, but his ass didn’t hurt. He flexed and didn’t feel any pain other than the marks dear ol’pops had left.

He blinked and very carefully, not to wake whoever was beside him, sat up and rubbed his face harshly with his hands. He rubbed his palms into his eyes and slowly started to look around. There was a TV going, he hadn’t seen a TV in months. It looked like some movie was playing though he didn’t recognize it. He looked down to the person next to him and could make out just enough by the TV’s light to see Alvarez, which fuck, if he had to wake up next to a guy would be his choice. The guy was sleeping pretty soundly too. He looked around the cell. It was a 6 man with only 6 people in it, if the bunk above them was empty.

What was he doing here; cause if this was Alvarez than he was in Torquemada’s ivory tower. 

“You okay there O’Reily?”

He jumped because he hadn’t noticed anyone was awake, but he could now see someone sit up. He recognized the voice, but he was seriously freaked out.

“Hey O’Reily it’s alright.” The voice tried to reassure him with calm tones.

Ryan backed up as the voice’s shadow body got down from his bunk and came towards him. Ryan moved until he couldn’t. He was trapped in the corner and the drugs must have still been in his system because he was too blurry to figure out what to do.

“Ryan, hey it’s Toby, calm down.” Beecher waved his empty hands in front of himself in peace.

“Beecher?” Ryan squinted and sure enough could make out the once lawyer. “Hey man, what’s going on?” It made sense Beecher would be here, rumor had it Beecher was on Torquemada payroll as Alvarez’s babysitter.

Beecher wished anyone but he had to deal with this. He was tempted to wake Torquemada but he was a bitch when woken and who knew how’d he explain this to O’Reily. He could try and wake Alvarez, who’d probably explain it well and who Ryan would probably take it best from, but he’d taken a sleeping pill earlier and was out for the night, which left him. “Welcome to your new cell.”

Ryan scowled, “Usually one gets their own bed in a cell Beech and being told they’re moving.” The scowl morphed into confusion, “Come on man, I don’t remember shit,”

Beecher rubbed a hand through his hair and over his beard. “Fuck, you’re dad, he ah, he got cut off.”

O’Reily didn’t like his ol’man but he knew him. “The fucker, he traded my goddamn ass for his, didn’t he?” He should’ve known better, should've known his dad couldn’t be trusted. Should’ve known the way the man had smiled when he’d taken the pills, the ol’man had just been waiting for him to get fucked up enough. He was probably lucky his dad hadn’t sold him to someone who’d prag him in front of the whole gym. Unless, “Um, what was the deal?” He coughed, ashamed of the emotion in his voice.

Beecher rubbed the back of his neck but didn’t answer right away and Ryan’s mind went to the worst. “Fuck, is he going to prag me out? I can’t do that, I can’t, I’m,” panic, he swallowed thickly.

Beecher cursed, but didn’t dare reach out, “no, no, wait he’s not,” O’Reily’s fear gave him the push to spit it out, “in exchange for you, you’re dad gets his booze and to live and all you have to do is mess around with Miguel. No ass fucking required and Torquemada will take care of you.”

O’Reily nodded and took calming deep breaths, “and if I balk, dad’s dead.”

“Well first they’d cut off his booze but then yeah,” Beecher shrugged; personally he didn’t think it was much of a loss. “You had to know something like this was coming. You’re stoned out of your mind 24/7 and your dad’s been riding on paybacks since he got out of the infirmary. They were going to kill him if he didn’t pay and let’s face it you’re the only commodity he had of any worth. It was either sell you to them or someone else who could pay them off, like Torquemada.”

O’Reily rubbed his arms, fuck he couldn’t get another family member killed. God he really was going to end up alone just like Gloria had said. He rubbed his face and exhaled with a growl of aggravation. “Okay-okay, I can do this. What exactly am I doing? What did you mean, mess around with Alvarez? No one’s going to try for my ass, cause I’d have to cut them, I really would, it’s like automatic.”

“Je-sus O’Reily calm the fuck down.” He pulled a chair around and sat in front the buck. Alvarez was sleeping between where he and O’Reily each sat, though he could barely see O’Reily, the way he was huddled in the shadows. “It’s not going to be that bad.”

“Not that bad,” O’Reily didn’t sound as if he believed him, a little outraged and Beecher thought it was time for a reality smack.

“It isn’t, because your dad could’ve sold your drugged out ass to anyone. It’s a very nice ass O’Reily, your dad would’ve had a lot offers. Someone who would’ve raped you the moment they could. You could’ve woken up as someone’s bitch or part of prag group. Or as some Nazis’ fuck hole with a swastika burnt into your ass.”

“Beecher,”

“No O’Reily you hear me out. Instead of any of that you’re here, where no one is going to ass fuck you or prag you out and all you have to do is put on a little show. You fuck around with Alvarez, you get Torquemada off and he’ll take care of you. You’ll get hot meals, no more bagged lunches, a TV, a place to put your stuff where no one’s going through it. No one’s going to be grabbing at your ass or anything else. Free drugs and a million of other little perks.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“O’Reily if that were true you wouldn’t be here.”

 As dim as it was, Beecher could still see O’Reily curl his arms around himself at the direct hit.

“No ass fucking.”

Beecher sighed, “God you’re hung up on that, you know with the right person it does feel good, but no, it is not required.”

“Did Alvarez choose me for this?”

Beecher honestly thought Alvarez’s had something to do with it; just by the way he reacted to O’Reily and the way O’Reily reacted to him. They way they liked each other, but ultimately, “no, he didn’t. I don’t even know if he took Torquemada’s talk seriously. What it comes down to is you’re Torquemada’s type.” There was something seductive and yet boyish about O’Reily. His mannerisms were all evil laced charm and his lanky frame certainly didn’t discourage the eyes. He’d seen those traits make the hardest of men give O’Reily a break but it also drew men like Torquemada.  

“I’m his type, fucking figures. I’m every-fucking-bodies type.”

“O’Reily, you like Alvarez.”

“Not enough to be his fucking girlfriend.”

“Torquemada just wants to watch you and Alvarez make each feel good, probably no more than hands,” to begin with, Beecher mentally added. “He could demand your ass, is it really worth your dad’s life to keep your cherry?” O’Reily mumbled something that Beecher couldn’t make out. “What?”

“I’ve never even kissed a guy okay.”

Beecher bit his lip, something about that admission coming from O’Reily and in that tone of voice made his dick jump to attention. Maybe he really was every-fucking-bodies type. He glanced at Alvarez, sleeping peacefully, Christ, Torquemada knew his visuals this was going to be hot. “I don’t think Alvarez has either, you’ll figure it out.”

“Beecher?” He turned towards the whisper to see Torquemada sitting up in his silk pjs, sleeping mask propped up. “Something wrong?”

“O’Reily woke up.” Beecher quietly explained, feeling awkward and not sure what exactly his place in this was or what Torquemada wanted O’Reily to know.

“Be so kind as to give him a pain killer for his bruises and a sleeping pill if he wants one. We’ll discuss things in the morning.” He promptly pulled his sleeping mask down and rolled over.

Really he should’ve known ‘O’Reily’s care’ would fall under his jurisdiction. He glanced into the shadows, past Alvarez (who hadn’t even rolled over since they’d started talking), “do you want something?”

“Ah, yeah a pain killer would be cool.” He glanced towards Alvarez, “but no sleeping pills.” Beecher didn’t blame him. He was even nice enough to bring him a glass of water. O’Reily took the pills without complaint and Beecher moved the chair back. “Where are you going?”

O’Reily raised an eyebrow and patted the top bunk, “I thought I’d get into my bunk.”

“Just stay with Alvarez.”

“What? Na, where the fuck is my pillow?”

“Ryan, my sweet, you were fine for the last 6 hours, lay back down and go to sleep.” Torquemada didn’t even turn over.

Ryan scowled and grumbled as he kicked off his shoes. Beecher bit off his smile as he listened to O’Reily mumble. “Oh yes master.”

Across the room, Torquemada said, “master, I like that.”

Beecher could hear Torquemada’s smile, a rare occurrence when he’d been awoken in the middle of the night. Beecher smiled himself at O’Reily’s wide-eyed look towards Torquemada’s bunk. He ducked his head down so O’Reily wouldn’t notice.

T.B.C


	4. Ryan, my sweet

Part 3

Miguel awoke with his arm around a warm living being. It had been so long since he’d shared a bed. Too long since he’d just held someone as they softly breathed. He smiled as he stretched, then realized when he nearly fell off the bunk that someone was _actually_ in his bunk. He opened his eyes and carefully withdrew his arm from around O’Reily. He grinned when O’Reily made a soft discontented noise and moved back into him. He knew O’Reily was probably just cold, but maybe he missed sharing a bed and living warmth with someone else too.

The lights weren’t on yet, not even the dim lights they put on at five to get the kitchen guys going. He usually slept until Beecher got him up for breakfast and sometimes could barely pull that off, but he felt awake now.

He didn’t know how heavy of a sleeper O’Reily was so he carefully left the bunk. It was colder than a whore’s twat he quickly peed and got a drink. Now he could hop onto the top bunk, but it’d be cold as hell and there was no blanket or pillow. He glanced down to the bunk he’d been sharing with O’Reily, who was warm and adjusted the blanket before curling up back under it. He tried not to be all over O’Reily but it was a bunk and, while neither of them were big, they both needed some space. Finding a comfortable position he found going back to sleep easier than he’d thought.

999

Beecher awoke to see Torquemada already in front of the mirror, dressed and making his prison garb ‘fabulous’. He rolled his eyes before he stumbled to the toilet. Torquemada had moved by the time he made it over to the sink. He brushed his teeth, ignoring Nitchel and Jacobs’ images in the mirror behind him as they did their morning workouts. He dressed, as he thought out their day, “today’s the first, are you going to talk with your lawyer?” The first of every month Torquemada spent the day with his lawyer and a business partner. The warden (or her assistant) allowed Torquemada to use a conference room for the day.

“I rescheduled for tomorrow. I thought maybe I’d get things all straightened out with Ryan, as hard as it is for me to stand anything straight.”

Beecher pulled on a clean shirt with a sigh. “What about the shipment that comes in tomorrow?”

Torquemada batted his eyelashes, “Please,”

“Fine-fine, but you owe me.”

Torquemada gave him an unrepentant grin, “Of course my friend.”

999

Cyril, for the first second he was holding his brother on his bunk in death row, but Cyril had never been shorter than him. Except maybe when they’d been really young, well at least he was actually warm for once. He shifted and froze when he realized people were talking. Beecher and Torquemada, losing himself had landed him here, which, all things considered, was hopefully lucky. He should probably focus on not landing anywhere else. Though after Cyril it wasn’t anymore than he deserved.

“And what about O’Reily senior’s supplier; do we know who it was?” Beecher sounded close. Ryan glanced from just under his eyelashes to see Beecher leaning against the end of their bunk and concentrated on looking asleep.

“Don’t block the view,” Torquemada winked. Beecher rolled his eyes but shifted and Ryan let his body go limp, only now all too aware of how entangled he and Alvarez were, “and yes, we do know, the Aryans.”

“Lovely,” Beecher scowled, whenever he thought of Aryans, Schillinger came to mind. Through the Aryans in Upton couldn’t be any more different. Where Schillinger was anti-drug these guys were all for it. Anything that would allow them to control their prag stable. The gang’s main money maker was their booze, gambling, and prags. “So we’ll pay them off and they should be happy.”

“Should be and they will be when we finish talking.”

Beecher tilted his head, watching as Torquemada made his way towards the table. “They’re getting paid, what else do they want?” He glanced towards the bunk, where Miguel and O’Reily slept. They both looked out for the count. He couldn’t imagine them snuggled together if they were awake. He looked away from them then back again, glancing over O’Reily, “they didn’t?”

Torquemada shrugged, “They’d hoped Mr. O’Reily would take their offer.”

“And he took yours, because he knew we’d take better care of Ryan?”

“Because I offered more,” Torquemada admitted, sounding both proud and disgusted. “They only offered to forget his debt. I offered to pay for some future debt.” He started to stack his files, “we don’t have to mention that to Ryan.”

“And for a second there I thought the bastard might actually care about him, asshole. So what are you going to do if they make an offer?”

“That depends on Ryan, if he’d like to stay with us than he will, no matter what they bring to the table.”

“Of course he’ll want to stay. He’s terrified of being pragged and for some reason doesn’t want O’Reily senior dead.” Beecher sounded incredulous.

“He may find my demands less palpable.”

“Than being a prag, doubtful. Besides, no matter what he says, he likes Alvarez and Alvarez likes him. They’ll get used to it, hell they may even like it,” at Torquemada’s look Beecher amended, “we both know once they get used to it and into it, they’ll like it. They won’t care who is watching. You’ll just have to be patient while they work past their egos.”

“I am well versed in the male ego.” Torquemada replied, “and as long as they try I won’t push them.”

“They’ll try. Fuck, Al where the hell are they going to go? Ryan’s choices are nitch to none, it’s you, a prag stable, or buck the system and go to his dad’s funeral and after Cyril you know he won’t do that. Alvarez has been shunned by the Latinos. They think he’s fucking crazy and likely to kill his own skin. They’d kill him as soon as you let him go if the aforementioned prag stable didn’t get there first. Not to mention the both of them have lovely pill addictions. Face it they’re yours.”

“Let us hope Ryan sees your logic and then Miguel when I explain it.”

Beecher had never actually heard Torquemada express any nervousness about anything.  It made him explain more than he normally would.  “They’ll stay. They know you’re not going to hurt them. They know me and I wouldn’t hurt them without reason. Normally they’re two of the strongest people I know, but right now, they can’t take care of themselves and I think they still care enough to know that.”

Still listening, O’Reily thought maybe Beecher understood the situation better than he did. He knew had he been on his game, he would’ve thought of 50 different ways out of this _before_ it got to this point. No, he didn’t want his dad killed and didn’t want this, but he wasn’t thinking of a way out of it either. The lord of the fucking dance wasn’t dancing and what bothered him the most was he didn’t care.

Torquemada adjusted his rings as he stared at the bunk. “Okay, I can do that, taking care of them comes easy to me. It’ll be worth it for the visuals alone.” He winked with a leer.

Beecher shook his head. He was starting to be able to read Torquemada too well. He just hoped, once they were able to pull themselves together, their first act wasn’t to bury a shank in Torquemada. “Just remember they’re new to this.”

Torquemada smirked with a gleam in his good eye, “I’ll be the saint of patience and the epitome of understanding. Do you think they’d kiss for us tonight?”

Beecher snorted as he walked towards the bunk, “Hey O’Reily, rise and shine.”

Torquemada kept himself to the table, seemingly studious, overlooking his files of _very important paperwork_ as Beecher got them going. Ryan glanced his way before quickly getting dressed and Torquemada hid his smile in his bar reports and only had one complaint. The time in the gym, or maybe his pill popping despondence, had lost him weight he scantly had to lose. Ryan’s clothes were loose enough to put more than one long sleeved shirt on beneath the prison issue light blue. Torquemada also noticed how threadbare and faded the stuff was, the long sleeved shirt was frayed and his converse shoes (also Miguel’s favorite) were barely held together. He made a note in one of his files for his business partner.

“Ryan,” Torquemada gestured to the seat across from him, “let’s talk a moment.” Ryan curtly nodded and dropped into the seat and promptly started fidgeting. Like his Miguel, feet shifting, fingers twitching, neither one of them could just hold still. He absently wondered if either had ever been diagnosed with ADHD, “I don’t know how much you remember from yesterday.”

Ryan shrugged, fingernail picking at tabletop.

Like herding cats his boys, “Your father,”

“I know,” Ryan told the tabletop, “I want to stay here.”

“Alright, but you don’t,”

“Beecher told me.” Ryan jumped in.

They both glanced towards Alvarez, who was tying his shoes, but clearly listening by the red spreading over his features.

“Miguel.”

Torquemada wanted to include him but Miguel didn’t look away from his shoelaces as he said, “I said okay already,” he didn’t even lift his head.

Torquemada figured he wasn’t going to finish a sentence at this rate, clearly this was a topic not to be spoken about and he let it go. “Alright then.” He slapped his hands on the table as he stood, Ryan looked up at him and he smiled, “I’m glad that’s all settled.” Beecher chuckled and Torquemada used his formable will not to laugh with him. “Let’s go to breakfast.”

It had been so long since Ryan had a something other than cereal for breakfast. Seeing pancakes, eggs, sausages, and bacon was almost more than his head could stand. Just the idea paused him long enough for Beecher to get ahead of him. “Come on, O’Reily, I was the same after I left the gym.”

Ryan followed after Beecher, while some loud mouth mid-way up the serving line started yelling at the guy he was serving, “pick a G-D meat already.”   

O’Reily was so focused on his choices, he didn’t even pay attention to the large shit-eating smile that over took Beecher’s face. Beecher glanced between O’Reily’s singular interest in the food and the large dark black man who seemed singularly interested in watching O’Reily. Beecher grabbed his tray as the man said, “Who’s this Beecher?”

O’Reily’s eyes focused on the man as soon as he heard the African accent.

Beecher bit the inside of his cheek. “Boseda meet Ryan O’Reily, O’Reily meet Boseda. He runs the Upton Kitchen.”

Boseda’s grin was all white teeth. “Ryan O’Reily,” Boseda savored the name, rolling it off his tongue.

O’Reily didn’t even flinch, just raised an eyebrow, “yeah, hi.”

As soon as they were past the man, Beecher laughed out loud. He’d never heard Boseda coo over anyone before and that included his prags. “Je-sus O’Reily what is it with you and Nigerian men?”

O’Reily shook his head. “Fuck if I know.”

Beecher chuckled all the way down the line. Even more so when Ryan got a double of everything without even having to ask or make a choice about anything.

999

The table in the sun next to the outside exercise set-up was considered prime location. It was warm and your gang had one whole side of gym equipment that was close enough to be considered territory. In gym A it was the property of whatever gang got there first, which was why Ryan was so shocked that the table was empty when they came out onto the yard.

There was one lone brother working out next to the table, but he just nodded their way as Torquemada took up house at the table. The gym bunnies went right over, spoke to the brother and started lifting more weight than O’Reily had in his body. Alvarez went to the punching bag while Masters, Fiona, and some others he didn’t know started a card game at the other end of the table. Not knowing really what to do with himself, O’Reily sat next to Beecher, who sat across from Torquemada.

Ryan pulled his hat further down on his head, even in the sun it was fucking cold and the hat wasn’t worth shit, prison issue fucking crap.  He watched with a disbelieving eyebrow as Torquemada offered Beecher a bottle of nail polish, which Beecher took with a sigh and then tapped the bottle against his palm, like Ryan seen women do. “Get all the way to the nail bed this time,” Torquemada said as he held out his left hand.

“If you don’t like the way I,”

Torquemada held up his other hand, “Of course I do Toby, no one does a better job.”

Beecher nodded with small smirk, “yeah, see that you remember that.”

O’Reily watched the byplay between the two men and realized they were friends, like actual friends. Beecher seemed open and nearly happy and Torquemada seemed to trust Beecher. Beecher sat closer than anyone else and, as O’Reily listened to them talk and remembered what he’d already heard, he realize Beecher wasn’t just Alvarez’s babysitter, he was Torquemada’s right hand man. He glanced down the table to Masters, who sat on the same side as Torquemada, and offered his input but didn’t seem upset that Torquemada turned more often to Beecher.

“We need to talk Torquemada.”

Torquemada didn’t pull his hand from across the table, but looked up casually. “Thompson, you have a bill for me.”

Beecher smirked and continued painting.

Thompson, a mid-height, balding man with a broad chest and bar mustache, glanced towards Ryan. “Yeah, well we need to discuss some details.”

Torquemada also looked towards Ryan. “Ryan be a sweetheart and go hold the bag for Miguel for a bit.”

Ryan tried not to show his disbelief. They were going to haggle over his life and he was supposed to go play with Miguel. He’d never trusted anyone to look after him, but that’s what he’d agreed to when he wanted to stay. He’d put himself into Torquemada’s hands and now he had to prove it. The seconds he’d taken to think about it barely registered to the man standing by the table but he could see Torquemada studying him. He was waiting for an answer and got it when Ryan stood up, Torquemada gave him a wink and an understanding smile. He’d prove it, but Torquemada had better hold up his end or Ryan would end him.

Beecher watched Ryan wander over to Miguel, they immediately started goofing off. Beecher smiled as he shook his head, they were so good for each other.

“I want him.”

Beecher looked back to Thompson with a growl, he slammed the bottle on the table, and shoved back.

“Toby,” Torquemada softly said, deadly soft, and it wasn’t pointed his way but Thompson’s, still he relented and sat back down. “I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

“Look we made a deal with his old man and he was supposed to bring him to us. I think we could work something out that would be beneficial to the both of us. You can even stable him.”

Torquemada shook his head, “I’m not going prag him and neither are you.”

“Christ, what the fuck do you want him for then?” Thompson growled. He looked over to Miguel and Ryan, “fuckin hell, he’s another pet?”

Torquemada scowled, “what he is, is mine. They both are and if anyone touches either one of them, or even looks at them funny,” he stood, towering over Thompson, until he causally leaned against the table. “Is your boss still sweet on destiny.”

Thompson scowled, “you goddamn know he is.” He looked back to the Aryans at their own table, all purposely looking away.

“If anything or one happens to my boys the river destiny is going to dry up in this prison and I’m going to point every addict in this place your way.”

Thompson bunched up. “What?! Fuck, hey,” he rubbed his head, picturing the population turning on him, including his own boss. “Shit, I can’t control every motherfucker in here.”

“Then you better control who and what you can.” Torquemada crossed his arms. “My boys are off limits, pass the word. I will pay Mr. O’Reily’s current tab and I will pay for the next three months then he is no longer my problem.

Thompson whistled. “That’s a total of a 6 month tab and O’Reily’s bound to go crazy on someone else’s money.” Thompson shook his head, “it’s your fucking money man and you aren’t even going to earn a dime of it off the kid’s ass.”

“No, I’m not and yes, it is.” He held out his hand, “the bill and be aware that I do know the current going rate.”

Thompson scowled, “I’ll have one of my boys bring it around.”

“Please do,” he glanced around and Beecher stood, blocking the angle of sight as Torquemada slipped something into Thompson’s hand, “a little something for your boss.”    

Thompson slipped it into his own pocket. He backed up a few steps, pause and then nodded coming to a decision. “Alright Torquemada, well played.” He grinned, “but no more pets for you. You don’t share.”

Torquemada shrugged, “I doubt I’d be able to think about anyone as I do my boys, but I’ll let you know.”

Thompson shook his head and walked back to his gang.

Both Beecher and Torquemada retook their seats. Torquemada looked to his nails and “chinga, goddamn, smeared my nails, Toby.”

Beecher rolled his eyes and picked up the bottle. “O’Reily senior is going to drink himself to death with an open bar.”

Torquemada looked over to his boys and smiled, “I certainly hope so. My Ryan doesn’t need him, he has a new family.”

TBC  


	5. “You mean he isn’t a natural,”

This has been sitting on my drive forever. It's not exactly what I wanted or how I wanted it, but it wasn't getting better no matter how I messed with it. Hence I'm moving by moving on.

In the gym there were no walls. There was no choice but to be with everyone all the fucking time. Here prisoners could go to their cell or out into the main area. The main area being a big space of tables with attached chairs and some pay phones against the wall. In days past Ryan would’ve been out in the main area, people watching and getting the lay of the land, but these days he didn’t give a shit. So instead he left the information gathering to some Torquemada’s gang while he went back to the cell to catch up on TV. 

Still rubbing his full stomach from the sweetest dinner he’d had in months, Ryan walked into the cell and stopped. He turned to Alvarez. “What the fuck?” He knew he was in the right cell. 

Alvarez looked just as confused as he did, “my fucking bunk man.”

Torquemada walked in and clapped his hands. “Oh perfect, Melvin was able to find one.”

Beecher sent Jacobs and Nitchel along with the others and followed Torquemada. He smiled when he saw the hold-up, now knowing what had O’Reily and Alvarez so skittish. He’d known Torquemada had asked Melvin (the warden’s assistant) about finding and using one of the old bunk beds. Torquemada had already gotten them all better mattresses and sheets than issued, but this, he shook his head plainly amused. 

The state never threw anything away. The bunk had to be from the 40’s or 50’s, it was larger than the ones they used now, big enough to hold an actual twin mattress. It looked like Melvin had taken care of that, the bottom bunk held a new mattress, nice sheets, two pillows, and blankets that looked warmer than anything else they had. The top bunk however was nearly barren with a regular issue mat that wasn’t even close to fitting the metal bunk it laid on. There was a single sheet but no blanket and a flat pillow on the thin mat. Beecher couldn’t think of a clearer hint and it looked like Miguel and O’Reily had gotten it. 

They looked apprehensive, embarrassed, and slightly fearful. Beecher paused in front of the improved buck. He pushed down on the plush mattress and looked back to Miguel and Ryan. “This thing feels amazing, lucky bastards.” He moved to the TV and turned it on, “Hey Die Hard.” 

Beecher turned around to see they had made it to the bed. Ryan was sitting on the mattress, testing it out, while Miguel inspected what looked like a very expensive down comforter. Beecher was pretty sure neither had any idea how much feather and high thread count cost. O’Reily stood from the bunk and looked to the top, “Won’t I get in trouble for not sleeping up here?”

“Taken care of dearest,” Torquemada answered without glancing up from where he gathered his shower things. 

Beecher had found there wasn’t much Torquemada couldn’t take care of. Upton was the perfect place for someone with money to burn. 

Ryan rubbed the back of his neck, still staring at the bed, but didn’t reply. 

Beecher grabbed his kit and joined Ryan, standing next to the bunk. “I don’t think my bed was this nice on the outside.” 

Ryan nodded, “yeah it’s nice.”

“No one comes in here and those that do already know.” 

“Everyone knows.” Ryan wasn’t stupid. Everyone in the damn prison was talking about this. It was just a matter of seeing the proof. 

Ryan glanced at Miguel, who’d stopped messing with the blankets and was now leaning against the wall staring at the bed. Ryan hoped he wasn’t as easy to read because he damn sure didn’t want to look that affected. 

Beecher sighed, “Look, talk and decide how you two are going handle this.” He turned away from Ryan. “Goddamn, are you ready yet?”

Torquemada grabbed up his black shower bag, adored with blooming pink flowers, “Of course Toby.” He sounded his usual confident and happy self but Beecher was the only one looking at him and he could clearly see Torquemada’s worried glances between Ryan and Miguel. He tossed a helpless look Beecher’s way.

Beecher sighed and turned back to O’Reily, “Alvarez,” he waited until they were both looking at him, “You’ll both feel better if you know what the other expects.” Beecher waved a hand towards Torquemada, who swished out with an eye roll. He leaned back and made sure Torquemada was gone before he hissed, “You might also want to figure out how to show a little goddamn gratitude.” 

Beecher left the cell, passing Torquemada where he stood talking to Masters. “No one goes in there.”

Beecher stopped and turned back, “except Thompson’s prag.”

Torquemada frowned and curled his lip in disgust. “I don’t think I want Thompson’s prags around my boys.”

Beecher shook his head with smirk. “Believe me, it’ll be fine.”

“But no Aryans,” Torquemada added and Beecher quickly agreed.

“Shit,” Ryan hissed and smacked one hand against the bunk. Beecher was the last person he wanted pissed at him. He slumped onto the bunk. It was really nice, softer than he’d slept on in a long time. Fuck he was to sober for this. 

“One or two?”

Ryan lifted his head to see Miguel’s hand and the pills he offered. “Hydrocodone?”

“Vicodin,” Miguel replied, before tossing two back himself. 

Ryan thanked god for small mercies, took two and tossed them back without water. “Will they be back before this kicks in?”

“Na, I saw him grab his bleach.” Miguel grabbed a chair and sat at the table. 

“You mean he isn’t a natural,” Ryan snorted. 

“Yeah, cause there’s so many bleach blonde Latinos around.” Miguel rolled his eyes. 

Ryan leaned back and looked at the top of the bunk. He breathed deeply, trying to push the drug into his system. “What the fuck do we do here? What the fuck does he want from us?” He asked the metal above his head.

Miguel played with an empty plastic cup someone had left on the table, batting it back and forth. He thought about it, Torquemada used to be grabby and aggressive but at some point that had changed. Grabs became less demanding caresses he could stand, lewdness turned into affectionate kisses to the back of his neck and hair. Recently there’d been times where he’d been high and happy to rest his head on Torquemada’s leg and pretend Maritza was running her fingers through his hair until he dropped off. He pushed the thought and followed a drugged tunnel memory of Beecher telling Torquemada how to ‘handle’ him so he wouldn’t freak out. Fuck, he scowled and kicked the other chair. 

Ryan lifted his head, “What the hell man?” He dropped his head back.

Miguel smashed the plastic cup and thumped his head on the table while spewing a linage of Spanish curses under his breath.

Ryan didn’t even lift his head. “Christ Alvarez, does he fuck you or what?”

Miguel’s head yanked up, “hell no, no one fucking touches me.”

“Then tell me what the goddamn Torquemada wants. Jesus Alvarez,” even the calming buzz of the drug seeping into his conscious couldn’t stop him from jumping off the bunk and pacing too fast for his eyes to rest on anything. “I’m getting all these bad vibes about this shit and you need to fucking tell me something.”

Miguel scowled at the pacing figure, like this was easy for him. Damn he didn’t even remember and didn’t want to think about it, he just did it. He’d just been taking Torquemada’s affection like it was normal. He rubbed the palms of his hands into his eyes, but most of it he didn’t mind, his body was fucking starved for touch and Torquemada was the only one who ever touched him. O’Reily walked by and Miguel looked after him, until now. He took a deep breath and weighed the drug in his veins. “He wants to watch us.” 

O’Reily turned sharply just before he hit the wall. “Watch us what, we’re not fucking.”

“Hell no,” there was no way, “not that, just you know fucking around.”

“Does he expect us to do anything for him?”

Torquemada had never asked him to reciprocate anything. “Na, never touches me, he gets off by watching. He’s, you know, affectionate, but it’s like not sex shit.” He played with the smashed cup, popping it back into closer to its original shape.

O’Reily nodded, “okay so we ain’t gonna fuck. So we mess around and it’s a quid pro quo, don’t take if you can’t give.”

“Bien.” Miguel was fine with that, he was pretty sure O’Reily wasn’t going to go farther than he could.

“And he’ll be happy with that, just watching us?”

“Yeah, you got to let him touch you too,” Miguel thought about how Torquemada would look, all hurt and shit when he flinched away and wouldn’t let him touch. 

O’Reily scowled and turned towards him, “you said,”

Miguel raised his hands, “man, just what I said, just like the daily stuff. He’s fucking affectionate, you can’t not let him.”

Ryan nodded, his manic energy running out and threw himself across the mattress. He could do this.

Miguel leaned down in his chair and rested his head against the back. 

“Hello boys.” 

Ryan sat up and watched two guys walk in; the first sauntered in like a Torquemada wannabe, all the swagger but none of the class. His brown hair was in low pig-tails and his shirt was tied high on his waist. Ryan wasn’t sure how old he was, older than him, and the years hadn’t treated him well. The other looked more like a regular guy, high as hell, but his much shorter hair wouldn’t hold pig tails. Ryan could see an angry new burn on his arm, the Aryan prag mark. 

Ryan shuttered, staring at the brand, while Alvarez stood from the table, “Dempsy,”

The Torquemada wannabe grinned. “Greetings gorgeous.” He looked over to Ryan, who stood next to the buck, “Hello there pretty boy.”

“What are you doing in here?” Alvarez was wondering how they’d gotten passed Torquemada’s people.

Dempsy pulled a folded piece of paper from his pants and held it up between two fingers. “Got something for your master.”

Now that Alvarez knew why Dempsy was there he didn’t seem to care anymore. He dropped back to sitting at the table. Ryan took his cue from him and sat back down on their bunk.

“Master?” The other guy quietly asked.

Dempsy looked back and waved a dismissive hand at the man. “Oh yeah, Elimont here is our newest acquisition. He’s still going through his initiation.” He leaned into Elimont, who looked like he wanted to lean away but didn’t dare. “This is Alvarez and O’Reily, Torquemada’s pets. He keeps them for private use.”

“No fucking bodies fucking using me,” Ryan scowled angrily. He just knew this was the type of shit going around. 

Dempsy rolled his eyes. “Well baby that’ll make life harder for you when Torquemada gets tired of you and tosses your sweet ass to Thompson.”

“What?” Ryan acted casual, leaning back unconcerned. If Torquemada had made some sort of deal.

Alvarez seemed even less than concerned, “Torquemada didn’t promise you or your master shit about either of us.”

Dempsy rolled his eyes. “He doesn’t have to. We all know sooner or later Torquemada’s gonna want something else, maybe boys,” he looked to Ryan with a nasty smirk, “who won’t mind being used.” 

Ryan relaxed. At least he knew Torquemada hadn’t promised anything.

Elimont seemed out of it but still unhappy and frightened. He looked between them before he said. “Private use? That mean,”

“It means Torquemada doesn’t let anyone else play with them. He gives them treats, like that wonderful bed you see there.” 

Elimont glanced at the bed but that wasn’t what made him red with anger. “You mean they don’t have to spend every waking moment trying not to get fucked or sucking a dick.”

Dempsy smiled. “Nope, but they are a hellva lot prettier than you Eli, that’s how the cookie crumbles. You should tell them about your night so they know what they have to look forward to.”

Eli was high enough and angry enough to do it, adding details, finding glee in their increasing quiet. He may not be respected or even a real man anymore but scaring the pretty boys was fun. He didn’t even have to make anything up he just spoke, little fucking bastards.

9999  
Torquemada stormed towards his cell, how was it whenever you wanted to get somewhere everyone and their goddamn grandmother wanted to talk to you. He glared at Beecher, who just shook his head at him. 

“They’re fine.” Beecher walked into the cell and amended the statement, they were physically fine, but they did look a little shell shocked. 

Some guy was talking but Torquemada didn’t even listen just barked, “shut-up.”

The guy looked ready to say something, but Dempsy (Thompson’s head prag) quickly shut the man up and produced a piece of paper. “Sir,”

Torquemada waved him quiet, “Shut up.” He yanked the paper from Dempsy’s hand and read it. He reached into his shower bag, where he’d put the money earlier and handed a small stack to Dempsy. “Give that to Thompson, don’t take a goddamn dollar.” He looked between his Miguel and Ryan, something was wrong. He glared at Dempsy, “Get out.”

Beecher let the new prag through but grabbed Dempsy’s arm. “You had better pray you didn’t fuck them up.”

Dempsy swallowed thickly. “We were just talking Beecher. I didn’t know they really were cherry.”

Beecher let the prag go and leaned against the wall. Ryan was staring absently at Torquemada’s hand for some reason. Alvarez batted a smashed plastic cup between his hands at the table. Torquemada looked between his boys and Beecher dropped his gaze so Torquemada couldn’t catch it, the last thing they needed to do right now was fight. 

Ryan couldn’t believe he’d gotten himself into this. It was stupid of him to just let himself go, stupid of him to trust his father. He just couldn’t make himself care after Cyril’s death, Gloria’s Dear John letter, and no letters from his mom. What else did he have but the ol’ man and the bastard had sent, no -fucking sold- him up the river. 

Now this is where he was. He owed Torquemada for all the money he’d paid out and it was this, paying the Aryans, or burying his ol’man. He rubbed his face thankful the pain killer had numbed everything including his panic. It’s not like he could just leave, if he tried it was likely either the Aryans or even Torquemada would have him killed after they got through with his ass. What if Torquemada got sick of him? He just wanted to go to sleep and not think which was what got him here in the first place. He rubbed his face briskly and realized he’d been staring at Torquemada’s hand. Christ.

Miguel watched the cup travel back and forth. He’d thrown his lot in with Torquemada. He’d known El Norte was done with him, happy to let him go to Torquemada as long as he stayed out of their way. He knew people saw him as Torquemada’s pet, but goddamn he was sick of caring what other people thought of him. Sick of letting everyone else control him and cost him. He just wanted to get high and fucking forget. He hadn’t really thought about what could happen to him if Torquemada cut him loose. Hadn’t really cared, but he didn’t want to go to the Aryans. After everything, he didn’t want to go out like that. 

Beecher didn’t know if they were all that messed up about whatever it was the Dempsy had been talking about or just too fucked up from whatever drug they’d taken. “O’Reily, what did you take?”

O’Reily swallowed and look to him. “A couple of Vicodin.”

“That’s it?”

O’Reily quickly nodded. “That okay?”

Okay so they could be that messed up by Dempsy. “Yeah, no problem.” O’Reily nodded and looked away. 

Alvarez jumped up from the table, the cup bouncing to the floor. “I wanna take a shower before lock up.” He glanced towards his/their bunk and sighed. He was more on top of this than O’Reily which was a first. Though to be fair he’d come to grips with his decision some time ago even if he hadn’t consciously known it. “Come on O’Reily, let’s go.” Ryan looked up and blinked at him. “Shower O’Reily.”

No one was more surprised O’Reily just grabbed his kit and followed him than Miguel was. He noticed Jacobs following them while Nitchel went back to grab their kits. He was used to it, he never went anywhere without shadows. 

Jacobs and Nitchel were staring, Ryan could feel their eyes on his back, sliding down to his ass and ignored it. They could look all they wanted as long as they didn’t touch. He was used to looking, used to ignoring it too. There was an empty shower between his and Alvarez’s, the ‘looking’ muscle was on the other side of the room, otherwise the room was empty, still he didn’t give the water a chance to chill. He dried off and quickly got dressed. He figured he wasn’t supposed to leave when the muscle sped up and sent a few frantic looks his way. He went to the mirror. He didn’t need to shave but it reassured Jacobs and Nitchel he wasn’t going anywhere. 

Alvarez finished shortly after him and joined him at the mirrors. “I don’t even know what the hell takes them so long. Jacobs has no hair and Nitchel has a buzz cut.” 

Ryan snorted, “It’s the creases in their muscles.”

Alvarez chuckled, “that could be true.” He rubbed his fingers over his chin and decided he needed a shave, “can you do this?” he didn’t look O’Reily’s way as he worked. 

And right there was the reason why O’Reily wished he had something to do, though running a razor over a smooth face was ridiculous. He turned and leaned against the far side of the sink. He folded his arms and looked ahead, standing this way he was looking out and not towards Alvarez or the actual showers. 

Alvarez was halfway finished before O’Reily shrugged and said, “yeah.”

Alvarez finished up and packed everything away as Jacobs and Nitchel finished getting dressed. He and Alvarez were waiting at the door by the time they made their way over, still Jacobs asked, “all ready?”

“Yeah,” Alvarez answered, he scratched the back of his neck. “Can we have some stuff, Jacobs?” 

“Of course,” The big man did something with the handle of his bag that Ryan didn’t quite catch but he did take the two pills handed to him. He looked to Alvarez for an explanation. 

“Destiny,” Alvarez said, before tossing the pills back.

Ryan had never tried destiny and didn’t know what it was made from, no one did, but it was fast. Ryan started to feel the high as the small pills dissolved under his tongue. He hummed softly as they crossed the block to the stairs, his limbs started to loosen on the stairs, warmth and liquid happiness flooded his veins. 

He might have fallen if Alvarez hadn’t caught his arm. After that Jacobs moved close enough to shadow him until they reached the cell. He stretched, his arms over his head, before he flopped down on the bunk. He decided as the plush bed cradled him that he was more relaxed and comfortable then he’d been in years. He sighed as he arched his back.

Beecher watched Ryan’s display, sprayed out happily on his bed. Alvarez kicking off his shoes as he smacked O’Reily’s and told him to kick them off. Jacobs joined him, turning to watch the two with him, and Beecher figured he knew the answer but asked anyway, “Destiny?”

“Yeah,” Jacobs shrugged, “he’s as sensitive to it as Alvarez.”

Beecher glanced to Torquemada, who stared at the bunk, papers hanging loosely in his hand. Beecher glanced towards the clock, 10 minutes till lockdown and the brightest sets of lights went off. 

Torquemada dropped the papers onto the table and glided to where his Miguel struggled with taking off his Ryan’s shoes. He gently removed Miguel’s twisting fingers. “I got it Miguel, sit down.” 

Miguel laughed as he shoved at Ryan, “lightweight.”

Torquemada chuckled, “Oh yes, he’s the lightweight,” he was pretty sure he could do the monthly books for his businesses on destiny and had, but his Miguel and it looked like his Ryan, it went straight to their heads. He got their shoes off and stood, tossing the offending things away as Beecher joined him. 

“How do you want to do this?” Beecher eyed the situation. Miguel had shoved Ryan over, who didn’t put up much of a fight but rolled away. 

“Like this,” Torquemada leaned over the bunk, “come Miguel,” he pulled at his pants, “off my lovely.”

Miguel’s multiple elbows into Ryan had him rolling with a pouted, “fuck off Miguel.”

Torquemada smiled, “so cute, come Ryan your turn.”

Ryan got up onto his elbows and saw them leaning over the bunk. He glanced to Miguel and noticed him dressed down to his boxers. He swallowed and nodded before raising his hands and pulling his t-shirt off. Torquemada knelt next to the bunk, one hand going into Miguel’s hair stoking and, used to the treatment, Miguel didn’t even open his eyes but stretched slightly with a small smile.

Torquemada remembered his talks with Beecher and moved slowly and in full sight of Ryan. He waited as Ryan went through something and finally he shivered slightly. Torquemada took that as his cue. When his fingers brushed Ryan’s check he didn’t flinch away. “Shh, it’s all right my sweetest, not going to hurt you. If you don’t want to play with Miguel tonight that’s okay. Maybe just get used to having him close, hmm. He feels good doesn’t he,” he helped Ryan pull off his pants, “destiny makes the skin so sensitive,” he pulled up the comforter, fluffing it before dropping it back down. “No one would be upset if you take your time getting to know each other. Are you listening Miguel,”

“Ah huh,” Miguel had been thinking about this. If they put this off they’d likely never start and it was a sure thing Torquemada would get sick of them. He was also sure O’Reily was too chicken shit to start it. He decided it was up to him and got the chance when Ryan jumped up to use the can. He moved into the bunk and closer to the wall so when Ryan came back he grumbled but lay on the outside. He turned onto his side towards where Ryan laid on his back and whispered into his ear. “I swear to Christ man, you punch me and I’ll punch back.” 

Ryan nodded. He was feeling no pain, nothing but happy-happy-joy-joy. Destiny was some good shit. He now knew why it moved so well. He turned his head, holy fuck, it been a long damn time since he’d kissed someone. He’d forgotten how good it felt, soft lips against his. He tilted his head and decided this wasn’t any different than kissing a girl, and carefully didn’t think about it anymore. Ryan threw himself into how it felt and it felt so good. He lifted his head into the kisses as Miguel moved to lean over him. Miguel’s hand wrapped around his waist, kneading his side, it felt so good he returned the favor and Miguel moaned into his mouth. 

Beecher had been talking to Torquemada about some new distribution when he happened to glance over the other’s shoulder. He felt the heat rise in his face as his attention was totally taken by what he was watching. Miguel and Ryan were making out and Beecher decided watching straight boys kiss might be his new favorite thing. Beecher heard a noise and looked to Torquemada, who had turned to see what had distracted him and now looked beside himself with excitement. Beecher shook his head, there was no use even trying to continue their conversation, Torquemada was completely besotted. “Beautiful.” He backed towards his bunk and sank down without looking away.

Beecher could only agree with him and hopped onto his own bunk to watch the show. Almost on command the lights dimmed. Thankfully Upton was nothing like OZ, the guards here didn’t give a shit about what the prisoners got up to in their cells, as long as it wasn’t murder or escape and Beecher was pretty sure they’d hold off on checking a murder. 

Miguel was sure it had been too long since he’d been with a woman because O’Reily felt pretty damn good. Though he wasn’t trying to think about just who he was kissing. He tried to get more comfortable, shifting, trying not to rest his weight on O’Reily. He moved as if he were kissing a girl, it was his only experience, and his leg shifted accordingly sliding between Ryan’s legs. 

Ryan was shocked out of his happy place and into what he was doing when Miguel’s leg shift between his. He jerked back, the jolt of pleasure taking a moment to override the shock. He groaned as the pleasure bounced around his drugged brain. He’d had no idea, goddamn, he wasn’t sure whether to go with it or pull away. He was lying on his back like a bitch but if he demanded to flip, he’d be on top and then he’d be the one in control and he didn’t want that. 

Miguel lifted his thigh and Ryan didn’t know if it was on purpose or not but it felt too good to stop and as he moved his leg he realized Miguel was in the same position he was. It must have felt just as good to Miguel because he jerked his hips against Ryan before he stopped only to start again. Ryan realized he was reacting to the movement and decided he didn’t fucking care. 

Miguel groaned as O’Reily fucking finally relaxed and started to move with him. Shit rubbing off against Ryan was 50 times better than his hand. And Ryan’s hands clenched at his skin, even breathing against his lips between hot kisses was so good.

Ryan rolled his hips against Miguel’s, tightening, lightening spread, rolled up his spine. He whimpered, destiny whiting him out, his orgasm fast and hard.  
He felt Miguel shake, and go rigid, thrusting hard against him. He dropped half on top of Ryan, breathing heavily in his ear.

Ryan heard a grunt across the room and the glow of ‘holy fucking shit that felt good’ went into ‘I can’t believe I fucking did that and that people watched me do it’. It was official he was a fucking fag. He draped an arm over his eyes and tried to control his breathing. He didn’t shove Alvarez off of him, though he didn’t know why, but the weight felt okay and the fact that Miguel whispered, “goddamn,” on shocked repeat let Ryan know he wasn’t alone.  
Ryan felt his approach almost before he heard him, he braced himself and it was a good thing too as it took everything he had not to flinch as Torquemada’s fingers ran threw his hair.

“Thank you my beautiful boys, so perfect.” 

Ryan nodded and blinked his eyes rapidly beneath his arm.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning Ryan and Miguel kept their heads down, neither was talkative but both let Torquemada flutter around them like a new bride. The man was completely smitten. Beecher shook his head and figured he wouldn’t say anything until it looked like either O’Reily or Alvarez were going to smack him.

Although O’Reily and Alvarez had nothing to say, it was almost endearing the way they gave each other sly looks when they thought no one was looking. Beecher wondered if he was ever that innocent in his affections. Torquemada had one thing right, straight boys were the best.

“Hey Torquemada.”

Torquemada leaned back from where he’d been brushing Miguel’s side and looked to the guard at the door. “Yes Officer?”

The guy smiled friendly enough, “Your business partner and lawyer have both shown up and so have Oz’s medical records so we’ll be taking your boys in to see the doc.”

The guard nodded, “I’ll escort you while Gary takes them.” As Torquemada moved closer the guard leaned in. “My girlfriend loved that necklace, you really helped me out man, I really appreciate it.”

“Always thrilled to help a man woo a woman,” Torquemada smiled, brushing a hand over both his boys before he joined the guard; the two still making conversation as they left.

Another guard came to the doorway, “Alvarez, O’Reily let’s go.”

OZOZOZ

Sebastian Taylor shook his head. “What has gotten into you?” He hadn’t seen his business partner this rejuvenated since before going to jail. Alfonzo was all over the place, checking into one club before looking into another, and then their stocks and investments. It was like Alfonzo had re-found his fire and Sebastian was thrilled, when Alfonzo was happy they made money. He thought about the boxes he’d brought. “Good God Ru Paul, is it love or lust?”

Torquemada grinned with a light laugh. “Something that begins with an L. Now I think we need to revamp the club in Chicago.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Fine be that way.”

“I rather think I will. Now Chicago,”

OZOZOZ

There was a line of prisoners outside the infirmary, most Ryan recognized as ex-OZ inmates though he didn’t see any he knew from EM-city. The hack led them past the line and directly into the large room. It was bigger than Oz’s infirmary but the prison was larger. There were orderlies, nurse, and two doctors covering the room, several hacks against the walls and all the beds were filled. The hack they followed didn’t even pause, taking them through the room and to the other side. He opened a door and looked back at them before jerking his head forward. “All right you two in here.”

Ryan gave the room a quick rundown as he walked in. It was just a semi-private room with two beds and the usual fittings. The hack rolled his shoulders and leaned with his back against the side of the entrance way, allowing him to watch both them and the main room.

“Sit.” The hack barked, pointing towards the beds when they remained standing.

Ryan rolled his eyes but hopped onto the first bed. Miguel scoffed with smirk but didn’t hesitate to jump on the other bed a small table away from Ryan’s. Both had seen the casual cruelty the underpaid hacks were capable of here in Upton. There was no Murphy in here to call them off or stop them and it showed. For the right price hacks would just watch a rape and give pointers. Anything had a price, baring flat out murder as there was paperwork involved in those, though they weren’t really bothered to interrupt if one was happening. Ryan (having no money, no tits and no sway) did his level best to stay out of their way.

“Okay, what do we have in here? Officer Mier,” a tall thin man with gray hair, nodded a greeting to the hack as he breezed by. He glanced at them both and then down to the folders he held. “O’Reily?” He pointed to Ryan, who nodded and then to Miguel, “And Alvarez? Correct?” Miguel nodded and the doctor moved back to the door and leaned out, “nurse.”

A heavy set woman, with a love for green eye shadow, bustled into the room, pushing a cart before her, her fake red hair bright and happy. “You bellowed Dr. Bobbin.”

The doctor didn’t lift his head to address her, just the next sheet. “I need blood work for these two. Full screen.”

She nodded and glanced between them, “Well aren’t you two some lookers, whose first boys?”

They pointed at each other and the nurse chuckled before heading towards Ryan. “I’ve been at this longer than either one of you has been alive, I’ll be quick and painless.”

The doctor ignored them and went to the rolling stool and small desk protruding from the wall, writing on a pad as he went though his paperwork.

“I’ll send these over,” she added to the doctor as she tagged Miguel’s last vial. “Did you need anything else?”

“These filled,” he turned and stood from the stool, “O’Reily,” he handed over a sheet, “and Alvarez. Bring it in and we’ll start them back on their schedules right away.” He turned from the nurse dismissing her. She quickly hauled the cart from the room. He nabbed the rolling stool and sat, looking between them. “I’m Dr. Bobbin. I haven’t had a chance to really overlook your files as of yet, but were the medications you were on previously working for you?”

Ryan shrugged. “Yeah,” he didn’t really know what Gloria had put him on after Cyril.

The doctor looked to Miguel, who agreed.

“Fine then we’ll restart them. They’ll need time to work, so you might feel like shit right now but it’ll get better okay. Give it a month and a half and you’ll start noticing a difference. Let’s start with, do either of you have any complaints, injuries, or problems you need to talk to me about?”

Ryan mumbled something to the negative, while Miguel shook his head.

“Right. I’m going to review your files and get back with you both on certain topics. The cancer I saw listed,” he nodded towards Ryan,” being one of them. Now I also saw where you both had family members involved in that medical testing over at OZ, your brother O’Reily and your father Alvarez.”  
Alvarez looked confused but Ryan knew exactly what the doctor was talking about, “Yeah.”

The doctor nodded. “Well there maybe some opportunities for that type of thing here.” He pulled some sheets from the under the files, “however I’ll need you to sign these if you want to hear about them. I can’t relay information to anyone not already signed up to the program. Of course signing these does not mean you have to actually take any of the offers made to you. It’s strictly volunteer.”

“What do we get out of it?” Miguel asked.

The doctor smiled, “depends on the program, sometimes it’s as little as food from the outside to large things as such as time served.”

“And we can say no?” Ryan reiterated.

“Of course, any offer is completely volunteer. You decide whether or not to take the risk.”

“Gimme a pen.” Ryan signed, while Gloria had been a bitch about the whole thing, it hadn’t been that bad. He’d just make sure not to agree to anything that could actually kill him.

Miguel figured if O’Reily signed up it couldn’t be that bad. He’d been in solitary when the study had gone on in OZ but it didn’t seem so awful what he’d heard of it. He signed after O’Reily. The doctor took up the papers just as the nurse returned.

The bright redhead placed a tray with med cups, water and syringes on the table.

Ryan took the pills and swallowed the water even nicely let her look in his mouth to see he had swallowed them. She moved on to Miguel while the doctor picked up one the four syringes.

“What’s that?” Ryan tensed, leaning slightly away. Gloria had never given him a shot.

“One is a vitamin supplement that everyone is getting. The other is a liquid version of one of your medications. Arm please?”

Ryan hesitated.

The hack cracked a hard smile. “Can’t persuade this one doc but I can hold ‘em down for ya.”

“No need Mier, he’s going to be good for me.” The doctor smiled.

Ryan gritted his teeth but relented.

The doctor was quick but Ryan could’ve done without the patronizing pat and, “see that wasn’t so bad.”

Miguel didn’t even bother. He just offered his arm and looked away.

The doctor looked to his papers as he spun his chair away. “Take them back to Torquemada.”

Ryan swore lowly.

Miguel wasn’t surprised. He hopped down and followed O’Reily from the room.

They’d barely made it into the main room, when the double doors bounced open with a crack, and pain-filled howling filled the room. The doctor, who had seen to them, pushed around them and towards the gurney. All Ryan could make out was the guy was naked.

The hacks and orderlies backed away to give the doctor room. A hack announced, “I guess manning up was the wrong thing to do.”

“What happened? Nurse, get over here.”

“Fuck if I know, he got an attitude about his place in life and the Aryans paid a bill with his ass.”

“Well isn’t that lovely.” The doctor remarked, “We’re going to have to stop as much of the bleeding as we can, he’s going to need, ah shit.”

The doctor was doing chest compressions as Mier led Miguel and Ryan by. The gurney was still parked right in front of the main entrance so there was no way around and while a part of Miguel didn’t want to look he couldn’t help it. He didn’t recognize him until O’Reily said, “Oh shit that’s,”

Past the numerous bite marks, blood, and gross, Miguel could tell it was the new prag that had been by their cell.

“Come on girls your daddy don’t want you seeing this.” The hack pushed Miguel’s shoulder, it was barely a touch but Miguel jumped away from it and moved out of the infirmary.

OZOZOZ

“Is the hack going to bring them to us when they’re done?” Nitchel glance between him and the door.

Beecher shook his head and hid his smile in his coffee cup. Nitchel and Jacobs were like overprotective attack dogs. “No,” Nitchel stiffened and Beecher continued before he and Jacobs had a moment. “The hack is taking them back to our cell, where they will be perfectly safe, until you can collect them.”

Jacobs scowled into his corn flakes and Nitchel didn’t quite relax.

Beecher rolled his eyes and discretely checked on the distributors. Whenever Torquemada handed him the reins it was both a blessing and a curse. On one hand it was a lot of responsibility that Al made look easy but certainly wasn’t. On the other hand, it was a thrill to be trusted, in charge and handling things. The feeling of accomplishment was the closest feeling to winning a case he’d had in a long time.  
He wanted to keep that feeling.

This was the first time in years he felt like he could function like a man. The absence of acute pain was its own drug. However he recognized if he wanted to keep his drug of choice he would have to do something about O’Reily and Alvarez. Torquemada really had no clue what he had. Al had never dealt with either in their right mind. Miguel had been in the pit of a depression when they’d met and Ryan hadn’t been right since Cyril’s death. He owed it to Al to make this work and if Al wanted them he was going to make damn sure Torquemada had them. Even if he had to keep O’Reily and Alvarez fucked up to do it; well hell they were probably happier half out of it. He was doing them a favor really.

He leaned back, “When we’re done here, you two go back to the boys. I’ve got to stop by the infirmary.”

OZOZOZ

Ryan rubbed the back his neck. He was tempted to mention that he wanted breakfast, but then Mier stopped them so he could help another hack and that put Ryan right off asking the man with the bloody nightstick anything.

Alvarez figured if the hack told the doc he wasn’t going to hit them he meant it so he ventured forward. “Um, we’re supposed to be at breakfast.”

The hack stopped and looked back to them. “You questioning me?”

Miguel blinked. “Maybe?”

Ryan tilted his head down so the hack wouldn’t think he was rolling his eyes at him, spick was trying to get them seriously injured.

Mier swung the nightstick and then laughed hardy. “Na, I know. I’m just fucking with you. Come on, you’ll get your breakfast.” Mier led them to their cell. Miguel glanced to Ryan who shrugged.

“In you go boys. Remember to thank daddy now.”

“Oh hell yeah,” Miguel grinned, taking in the spread on the table. Damn eggs, bacon, and even pancakes with the steam still rising. He didn’t even flinch as the hack closed the door.

Ryan nabbed a couple of pancakes before Miguel could eat them all. Then he got a whiff of the eggs, “holy fuck I think these are real eggs like out of a chicken’s ass.” He grabbed up half.

They ate until they had to lean back. Ryan staggered off to their bunk, lying heavily with a groan. It wasn’t until then Miguel even noticed the note. He picked up the sheet, “huh,” then blushed.

Ryan sighed, goddamn it, of course a meal like that came with a price. “What?” The paper landed on his chest. He had to straighten the ball back out to read the pretty feminine writing. “Thank you my boys. Please accept my gifts as proof of my appreciation. I look forward to the next pleasure we share. Al.” Ryan crumbled the paper back up and tossed it towards the table.

They could hear other inmates on the main floor. Miguel scowled at the locked door. “Why are we on lock down when those fuckers are out an about?”

Ryan shrugged, he didn’t really care, but he knew Alvarez had a problem with being closed in and shit. He groaned, if Alvarez had a freak out not only would Torquemada be upset so would Beecher. Shit, fuck they might make him ‘comfort’ the guy. He sat up. “Look,”

The sound of their door opening cut him off and Ryan was happy as fuck because he had no idea what he was going to say. A guard leaned in, looked between them, leaned back out before he returned, while pushing a handcart with two large boxes balanced in front of him. “Special delivery.” He dropped the boxes and backed out. He left the door open but Ryan could give a fuck less, he was too busy inspecting the boxes. He started to open the top one.

“Hey,”

He looked back to see Alvarez smirking at him. “Open the one with your own damn name on it.”  
Ryan hadn’t received so much as a holey sock in months, so “fuck you”, was the best he could do. He moved the top box off and realized it was heavier than he’d thought. He sat on the bed and pulled his own box in front of him. He didn’t know what it was but the idea of receiving anything was almost alien. He flipped over the flaps and holy Mary motherfucking mother of Christ.

Ryan pulled out the clothes, warm, clean and new, they were still prison issue but they had never been worn before. They were thicker and softer than anything he owed. There were t-shirts with long sleeves, thick socks, and underwear all still in the plastic wrap. A new bathroom kit, just when his toothbrush had given up the ghost. The shampoo was different, but it smelt really good, the stuff all looked like more than he’d pay just to get clean. At the bottom were two smaller boxes the first held a new pair of red converse. He picked up the last box. “Fuck me”, he shifted through the candy, cigarettes, and chips.  
He looked up at the sound of a wrapper as Alvarez opened a sucker and popped it his mouth. Ryan looked to the blue converse on Alvarez’s lap, where he’d started lacing the new shoe. He looked to Alvarez’s old shoes, which still looked good, unlike the flapping heal and toe holes he had in his.

He glanced to the stuff stacked around him. One box had replaced everything he owned with better shit than his had even started out as. Ryan ran his fingers over the soft inside of his new coat and noticed his shaking fingers. What the fuckidy fuck was this going to cost him?

Miguel blinked, shuddering. He recognized the feeling of having zoned out. He’d been trying to keep his shit together. He didn’t let himself be drawn into the shadows or the voices. O’Reily needed him to keep his shit together. No one had needed him in a long damn time and he was trying to do the right thing.

He glance up, “O’Reily?” Ryan was still on the bed, leaning against the post, his knees pulled to his chest, arms folded over them, a cigarette in one hand. Miguel noticed how the cigarette shook as Ryan lifted it. He had worked himself into a fine snit and Miguel hadn’t even noticed. Puta madre. He looked to the stuff neatly stacked at the other end of the bed.

“You ain’t gotta earn it.” Miguel stated softly.

Ryan cut his eyes towards him. “Goddamn. I don’t know how to do this.” Ryan’s head thunked back against the pole. His first presents in more years than he could remember and it had come from his owner, which made it feel less like presents and more like added debt. He couldn’t refuse though that would be like telling Torquemada to cut him loose.

“He doesn’t understand, like, he thinks he’s got all this money right, so he should buy us stuff. He don’t expect us to pay him back shit. It’s all gifts. He just wants us to be happy.” He shrugged at Ryan’s look with quirk of his lips, “Okay, as happy as we can be.”

Ryan nodded, taking a deep drag of the cigarette. He gave himself a head rush of nicotine. He thought about the poor fuck in the infirmary. That could’ve been him. Torquemada had saved him. He couldn’t owe the guy more.

OXOXOX

“And what brings you to me Mr. Beecher? It’s a little early for Mr. Torquemada’s report. I only saw them this morning.”

Beecher nodded with a wily smile. “I realize that.” He glanced at the closed door and at the hack’s back against the glass, giving them privacy. “I want a list of the drugs they’re on and the quantities.”

“Perhaps what they’re for as well.” Dr. Bobbin dug though a pile of folders, glancing as he went and pulling out two. “Look I play the game Mr. Beecher and I know the walls around here don’t stop anyone’s reach past them. I realize it’s in my best interest to keep Mr. Torquemada very happy.” He flipped open the folder, gazing down quickly, before turning to the next. “But they’re on some heavy antidepressants and anti-psychotics. I don’t think you want to fuck with those.”

Beecher scowled. The doctor was right they were despondent now, if allowed to continue they might become suicidal, which was not a desirable outcome.

The doctor looked at him from over his glasses. “If you want them docile, messing with their meds is not the way to go. However,” the doctor paused with a guilty flush.

Beecher gave him a friendly smile, leaned back, and casually removed the money from his pocket and set it on the desk. Dr. Bobbin seemed like an ok guy, but he was an ok guy with a gambling habit. “Yes?”

The doctor’s eyes didn’t leave the money even as he closed the folders. “However I can still help you and Mr. Torquemada. I’ll add something to their morning meds.”

“I don’t want zombies Dr and I don’t want anything that will hurt them.” He leaned forward resting against the desk.

“No, of course not.” Dr. Bobbin looked to him. “Trust me I got just the thing for you.”

Beecher nodded as he stood. “See that you do.” He turned away, leaving the money on the desk.

TBC  
Next chapter, Keller is still a smooth operator.  
Thoughts?  
I work on this, I sincerely do, but I have to admit I do work more often on stories that receive more encouragement. That is NOT to besmirch the kudos and comments this story receives. It was a really good review that prompted me to ready this.

I appreciate you. Thank you very much.


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